by Naomi Kryske
It would, he knew, so he rummaged in her kitchen, finding pizza he could warm. While they waited, he examined her for signs of post-incident tension, running his hands over her jaw, temple, neck, shoulders, and back. “Deep breaths,” he said, and massaged her shoulders until he felt her muscles relax.
While he served the pizza, she waited with Bear, her companion in bandages, and wondered what had become of her cream puffs. After the meal and medicine, she curled up next to Simon on the sofa, her head on his chest. “I want you to hold me and never let go. Do you have to go back?”
“Not until my leave’s over,” he said, resting his arm on her shoulder.
“I’m glad. And Simon – I prayed this week. That I’d be safe.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I prayed also,” he said softly. “It’s my guess the man upstairs heard us.” When she didn’t answer, he noticed that her eyes were closed, and her breathing was regular and slow. The natural letdown he had expected. As gently as he could, he gathered her in his arms and carried her upstairs. She looked small on the master bed. He pulled the comforter over her blood-stained clothes and bent to kiss her lips. An unfamiliar emotion tightened his throat. He stretched out beside her on the bed and put his arms around her, being careful not to put any pressure on the bandages. She murmured something he couldn’t catch and nestled against him. That same strange feeling made his eyes sting, and he pressed his lips against her hair. Yes, he had prayed.
CHAPTER 40
The flat was quiet when Jenny woke, her hand throbbing. With it came a stab of fear until her surroundings and the smell of coffee registered. Simon was there! And Bear, licking her uninjured hand now that she was awake. She kicked off the comforter and realized she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, wrinkled and bloody. Her last memory was of feeling warm and safe in Simon’s arms as he carried her up the stairs. Needing his embrace, she tried to dress quickly but found that she couldn’t. Her bandaged hand was next to useless. She managed to slip into a clean pair of jeans. Getting a t-shirt over her arm and hand took a little longer, and because she didn’t want to wear anything red, she chose a shirt with embroidered bluebells. She went to find him, with Bear close beside her all the way.
“Knackered and upset,” she heard him say to his mobile. “Yes, sutures in her hand and arm, but it could have been much worse.” He looked up and saw her. “Thanks, she’d like that. My best to Beth,” he said and ended the call. “That was Davies. My team’s been phoning about you. Any discomfort? The second day’s the most painful.”
“No kidding!” She had a lump in her throat and put her good arm around him. “I wish I could hug you the way I want to.”
“Not to worry. I’ll take your hugs any way at all.”
“It hasn’t sunk in yet, Simon – that I’m safe.”
He continued to hold her. “That’ll come. In the meantime, I’ll bring your meds and some orange juice and toast, and I’ll scan the newspaper I bought.”
“I need to feed Bear.”
“Already done.”
She released him and watched while he poured the juice, shook the pain pills out of the bottle, and handed them to her. He joined her on the sofa, opened the paper, and spread it on his lap, smoothing the pages. She sipped the juice and waited for the toast.
He finished his quick read just before the bread popped up in the toaster. “I’ve been manning your mobile,” he said as he slid the toast onto a plate with butter and jam. “I rang Padre Goodwyn, who sends his best. And the two detectives you’re so fond of will be calling by soon to speak with you.”
That made her smile. He was referring to the Humanoids, although her dislike of them had eased slightly. “They probably want my statement. I didn’t give the officers much information yesterday.”
She finished her juice, nibbled the toast, and then made herself comfortable on the sofa, putting a cushion under her injured arm to keep it raised. Bear was at her feet. She ended her call to Father Goodwyn just before Simon answered the door and admitted DS Wyrick and DC Mackeson.
“Do you feel up to a little chat?” Wyrick asked.
“Yes, and I think I have as many questions for you as you have for me,” she said.
Mackeson took out a tape recorder and made the introductory remarks, and Wyrick asked her to describe the previous day, beginning with her departure from the flat. The dynamics between the two men had changed, Wyrick taking an active rather than a supervisory role and conducting the entire interview himself. He interrupted her several times to clarify details in her narrative. She related each movement, having to stop occasionally to regain control of her emotions. “I don’t know why I’m so shaky,” she said by way of apology.
“You’ve had a very frightening experience,” Wyrick said. “Take a moment to collect yourself.”
The usual phrases, Jenny noted, but nevertheless she found them comforting.
“Slow breaths,” Simon advised.
She nodded. “I was startled and confused. I couldn’t imagine what she had against me. I thought she was going to kill me. And without Mr. MacKenna, she would have.” She turned aside for a minute. “Simon, I watched her hands. That’s why I was able to deflect her initial attack. And I used both hands to defend myself, like you told me to.”
“Did she say anything to you?” Wyrick asked, redirecting her attention.
“Nothing intelligible. She screamed at me. But there’s something weird about her. I saw her from time to time at the bakery, but I’ve never really met her. Yet I could swear she was wearing my ring. On the hand that held the knife. I saw it when Mr. MacKenna pinned her down. Her right arm was stretched out on the ground.”
Wyrick’s eyes narrowed. “Can you describe it? We have an itemised list of the personal effects she was wearing when she was taken into custody.”
“Three small pearls on a gold band. The initials “RAM” and “JCJ” are engraved inside. My maiden name was Jennifer Catherine Jeffries.”
“When did you lose that ring?”
“September 14, 1998: the day Scott’s men kidnapped me. I was wearing it when I left the hotel, but not when the police found me, whenever that was.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair,” Wyrick said.
Mackeson made concluding remarks and stopped the tape recorder.
“Now I’ll tell you a bit about your assailant,” Wyrick continued. “She’s Greek. Her name is Alcina Michalopolous. You’ll recall that Anthony Michalopolous was convicted of false imprisonment and conspiracy to rape in your case. He is her husband.”
Jenny shivered, remembering his menacing face. “I testified against him. He must have taken my ring and given it to her.”
“That’s entirely possible,” Wyrick said.
“Is he out of jail? Did he put her up to this?”
“He is still incarcerated. We’ve not yet spoken with him. She could be acting either on her own or on his behalf. Interviews with her have thus far proved unsatisfactory.”
“She rants in Greek when she speaks. The rest of the time she’s silent and withdrawn, according to the custody sergeant. No eye contact whatsoever. A real nutter,” Mackeson added bluntly.
Wyrick frowned. “That’s not a legal opinion, you understand.”
Casey had been watching Jenny’s face. “Enough for today,” he said.
“Of course,” Wyrick relented. “I’d just like you to know that we’ve apprehended the man who was committing rapes in this area. He made the mistake of attacking an undercover policewoman.” He stood and nodded at Mackeson. “We’ll need to speak with you again in a few days, Mrs. Sinclair. Shall we say Monday?”
Casey showed them out and joined her on the sofa. “Now I want you to tell me about it. The unofficial statement.”
She leaned against his shoulder. “It was like a series of still photographs. The knife held high enough to catch the sunlight; the notches in the blade; her knuckles gripping the shaft. Her face distorted with anger; her brows black; her eyes wild.
In her black clothes, she looked like a devil woman, and she towered over me.” She took a trembling breath. “Every time I close my eyes, I see the knife. Stained with my blood. And I’m scared all over again.”
“Steady on.”
“Behind her was a birch tree with leaves a vivid green and thick ivy on the trunk. A fat fir tree crowded it. I wasn’t aware of much else, just the death image and the trees, the life image.” She swallowed hard. “Simon, I thought I’d be carved up on that Hampstead sidewalk and never see you again.”
He’d had a similar fear. He bent to kiss her, letting his eyes rest on hers first.
She looked back. His blue eyes were warm and his lashes so blond they were almost transparent. He kissed her slowly, gently, almost reverently, his lips barely touching hers. Was this his way of telling her he loved her? She whispered his name, and he gradually pulled her closer. She could feel his rough skin against her cheek and his chest pressing on her chest. She didn’t want to cry; she wanted to kiss him back with the same kind of tender devotion, but he had touched something inside her that she could express only in tears.
He chuckled softly and drew back, kissing her wet cheeks and then massaging her unbandaged hand.
“Sorry,” she said, watching the circular movement of his thumb against her palm and thinking of all the times he had comforted her with that gesture. She knew now that it was a caress, and it had been for a long time. Love in another language.
“Not to worry. Bound to happen.”
She laughed. What she called “Simon-speak” had broken the spell, but the feeling she had inside didn’t dissipate completely. “Lunch?”
“I’ll rustle up something, and then we need to tidy up,” he said. “Davies is coming by later to make dinner, and some of the chaps are bringing things.”
He made sandwiches while she warmed some soup, and after a light lunch, she cleared her workbook pages from the dining room table while he “hoovered,” as he called running the vacuum cleaner. Realizing she needed to clean herself up, she went upstairs to shower and wash her hair, using the small garbage bag he had given her to cover the bandages on her right arm and keep them dry. Bear followed her everywhere she went, and she stopped from time to time to kneel down next to him and run her good hand across his fur.
Brian and Beth arrived first. “I wanted to see if you were all right,” Beth said. “Are you? You’re all bandaged!” She gave Jenny a gentle hug.
“I came to see about Casey,” Brian smiled, his arms holding a grocery bag. “He went ballistic yesterday when your man called.” He leant forward and kissed her on both cheeks.
“Where are the kids?” Jenny asked.
“A neighbour’s watching them,” Beth answered. “It’s so good to be out! But we have to be back before Robbie gets hungry.”
Miles and Laurie Watkins came next, bringing a large salad and a dessert. “You should move to Truncheon Alley where you’ll be safe,” Miles said.
“Where is Truncheon Alley?” Jenny asked.
“In Hayes,” Laurie answered. “But don’t believe a word of it! A lot of coppers live there, but none of them are home long enough to make it safe.”
The McGills had taken advantage of the extra day off for a quick trip to Scotland, but Clive Hewlett and his partner had picked up a vegetable platter at Marks & Spencer. “We saw Donny and Kaye choosing cookies,” Lucy said. “Here they come.”
“Nice flat,” Aidan Traylor said when he arrived. “Stay on her good side, Casey.” He held a case of lager. “I was the slowest and the lowest this week on every drill,” he confessed. “This is my penance, but if Pilsner comes, it won’t last long. He’s quiet until he has a pint or two under his belt. Then he’ll bore you with his Army stories.”
“I heard that,” objected Ross as he entered the flat. “Casey looking after you well enough?” he asked Jenny and snapped his fingers in mock regret when she answered in the affirmative.
Brian was already in the kitchen, and Jenny went to help him find the skillets and saucepans he needed. “We all know Casey’s no cook,” he said, “and you’re down for the count, so we thought we’d help out. Besides, we got an extra day off because of you. Where’s the paring knife? I need to dice the onions.” He opened one of the drawers and removed a larger knife. “We’ll need this one as well. For the bread.”
She paled and felt slightly faint, having to reach out to the counter to steady herself.
“Casey!” Brian called. “Seeing the knife upset her.”
Simon stepped into the kitchen and put his arm around her. “In Davies’ hands it’s a tool, Jenny. That’s all it is.” He guided her out of the kitchen.
“I know. I know. I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered, not wanting to leave his embrace.
“No need,” he said softly. “All friends here.”
Aidan hadn’t brought a date, so he agreed to be Brian’s prep cook. “He doesn’t let her out of his sight, does he?” he remarked to Brian.
“Casey has a long history of protecting her,” Brian answered.
Jenny sat on the sofa with Beth and Laurie, taking deep breaths and trying to focus on the easy banter among Simon and his team. “Thanks for doing this,” she said.
“We look out for each other,” Beth answered.
“But I’m not really an official part of this group,” Jenny commented.
“In Simon’s eyes you are, and that’s all his team need to know,” Laurie added, trying to coax her long locks into a casual ponytail. “But tell me: did a crazy woman really attack you? Why?”
Jenny could smell the garlic and onions that Brian was sautéing. He must be making meat sauce for spaghetti. “She’s been stalking me for quite a while, but it’s strange! I never thought it was a woman.” She gave a brief description of the incidents.
“Where’s your dog?” Laurie asked. “Do you still have him?”
“He’s upstairs,” Jenny said. “He still has to stay off his feet most of the time, and I wasn’t sure how he’d react with so many people. Should I set the table now?”
“If we let you do it, Simon will be after us for sure,” Beth laughed. “Come on, Laurie. We’ll need trays for the ones who won’t fit at the table and have to eat on their laps. Then we’ll gather everyone and serve the salad.”
Jenny saved a spot next to her for Simon and accepted very small servings, knowing that with only her left hand functional, it would take her twice as long to eat half as much. Miles kept everyone entertained with what seemed an endless supply of jokes and funny stories, including one about a training exercise with the MSU. “The Marine Support Unit,” he explained to Jenny. “We were well into it when we got a call that a man had jumped off a bridge. We kickstarted the launch to get as close to the victim as we could, and one of us leant so far over the side of the launch that we had to hold his ankles. He grabbed the man by his hair. ‘This is your lucky day,’ he said, but the man came out of the water cussing a bloody streak. He didn’t want to be saved!”
“You should’ve thrown him back,” Casey laughed with the others.
Aidan countered with a story of his own, ending with a punch line that was even funnier delivered in his wry, understated tone. Ross Pilner took full advantage of every lull, relating some of his more interesting Army adventures, or “misadventures,” as Aidan called them. Pilner’s tattoos peeked out from under his t-shirt, but Jenny thought they weren’t the only sign of how he felt about his military service. Even amid the humor, his pride showed through.
Jenny slipped off her shoes and leaned on Simon, enjoying the raconteurs but more tired than she had expected to be.
Davies watched Jenny. Like Casey, he had learnt to recognise signs of exhaustion or pain when he was on her protection team. Now he noted that her smiles were slower in coming and weaker when they did. “Time to go, mates,” he said, rising to his feet.
Beth and Laurie put the leftovers in Jenny’s containers and everything else in the dishwasher. Then it seemed that
everyone left all at once.
“I made her laugh,” Miles commented to Simon. “My mission, right, mate?”
“Never let it be said that I didn’t do my part,” added Pilner. “She’s a good audience.”
“Delicious as ever,” Jenny told Brian.
“Glad to do it, JJ,” he answered. “Glad you’re okay.”
Aidan hastily finished his bottle of lager and gave her a wave.
“Tea?” Simon asked after everyone had left. “Then I’ll change your dressings.”
“No tea. Just TLC,” she smiled. She watched while he worked. “Simon, I can’t remember anything the doctor said to do. I’m glad you know. And Simon – I felt part of a community tonight. More than I did when Colin and I socialized with his colleagues. You work with a nice bunch of guys.”
“Being in harm’s way together bonds you,” Simon explained.
“It bonded us, I think,” she agreed.
He nodded. “This stalker thing – it’s been worrying for both of us.” He taped the last bandage in place.
“I hate for this day to end,” she sighed. “I’m worn out, but having you here has been wonderful.”
“Past tense?”
“No, present and future, I think.” She leaned forward to kiss him. “Goodnight.” But it wasn’t a good night. In every dream a knife suddenly appeared, shocking her: mutated from what she thought was a pen on the desk, hidden in her purse next to her keys, camouflaged among the twigs on the Heath. She woke repeatedly trembling and shaking, wanting him desperately. He was downstairs; just a few steps, and she could be in his arms, where she would forget all about knives. She needed him, but that meant she was more concerned with taking than with giving. Then in a flash she understood why he had gotten drunk and made love to her after the bloody scene his team had encountered. Sex wasn’t the issue; engaging in something so compelling that it drove the shocking images away was. His need had overcome his reason. All these months he had been trying to make it up to her, and now the shoe was on the other foot. If she allowed her need to direct her actions, what would the result be? Would she regret having intimacy with him before they had declared themselves? Need was not the same as love. Was it a part of love? She was afraid to go to him, because if she did, she would not be strong enough to hold back.
